My family
by OhMissBeliever
Summary: "I don't know my past; not really, at least. But that doesn't matter. Because after growing up with them, nothing bothers me. So I will wear his ring because I want to make them proud of me."
1. My Family

**My Family**

I didn't wear his ring because he and his partner said they were in love with me.

As confusing and surprising as it was, I didn't doubt it. Even despite the fact that they were together- _a couple_.

I didn't wear his ring because I didn't have one on my own. I still don't know why I was even with them. I wasn't even technically a part of their little "club", per say; even if I wore the uniform and went to their little "meetings", or whatever you want to call them. I sometimes even participated in different activities they performed.

I didn't wear his ring because I loved him. For one, at the moment, I'm not even sure I know the correct definition of love. Is it the yearning for the person? Is it wanting to show the person affection and for it to be returned? Is it risking your life for the other person…? The answers to these questions leave me confused. Because if the answers are yes to those questions, then I love all of them. But, being in love with a person? What's the difference?

And for two, I don't have the right to love any of them. I'm a burden on them, even if they tell me I'm not so.

I didn't wear his ring because I felt obligated to. Just because he told me he loved me first and gave me a very blunt indication that I was important to him doesn't mean I _have _to wear it.

I didn't wear his ring because he was dead and I was to replace him. I could never replace him, or his partner.

I didn't wear his ring because they made me, because they didn't.

I didn't wear his ring because they told me he asked them if they could give it to me or his partner before he died. His partner had the ring, and his partner died. So instead of giving it to a new member, they gave it to me because he requested it.

I'm sitting in a classroom with fellow students listening to our teacher lecture about something or another. I can barely pay attention. I don't want to pay attention.

I've been sitting in class every day of the week and doing nothing on the weekends. I've been a good girl and did my school work and homework and took notes. I have been doing this for months but nothing changes.

I keep the ring on my body at all times, whether it be on my thumb or forefinger (because it's too big for my other fingers), or I set it on the desk to keep an eye on it.

Although I was gone for weeks at a time, then would show up randomly with all the schoolwork I've missed and take my tests and pass everything, no one thought it was weird. No one asked where I was. My friends acted like everything was normal. No one missed me.

The ring is worn and the metal is wearing down to show the copper beneath it, and that makes me smile and chuckle to myself. The leader of the group didn't care that he got cheap rings, as long as they got them.

Class was over and I had to head home to my normal life doing normal things.

There was this movie that was the group's favorite; I forget the name. But, in the movie, there was this character who went into dreams and had a token of sorts that he could use to differentiate between reality and dreams. I guess this ring is the same for me. For me, it means everything was real.

It means that everything happened really happened. It means most of the group is dead. It means I was sent back because it was too dangerous for me, I guess. It means I'm safe and alive and that everything will be okay.

I wear the ring, even though I would rather have all of them, but especially his and his partner's.

While I was still there, I had a habit of getting into fights with some of the members. We would have conflicting views and go at it with each other. I was irritated and started fights; I and the other person would usually have short tempers.

When it got too bad, I ran into the nearest room- usually his and his partner's. I had three hiding places: the clothes hamper, the closet, and under the bed. I was sure that when they found out that they would give me to the member that I had gotten in trouble with. But they didn't; they actually chuckled at me and made it so that when I hide in my secret places that I would be utterly undetectable and I would feel safe and would calm down; all I had to do is close my eyes. Even when I opened them, I would feel safe, but it intensified when I closed my eyes. I don't know why they did. They just did.

I was safe as long as I was in my hiding places in their room. It actually got to the point where they would let me wear their cloaks; the blonde and his redheaded partner. I don't know why.

I don't know why they let me crawl into the bed they shared when I had nightmares either. They didn't even try anything perverted. They just held me together, letting me cry and talk about my nightmares and fall asleep with them. They weren't even mad when I woke up before them and kissed their cheeks, or walked around in their clothes when mine were getting washed or when I wasn't feeling well.

I don't know what any of them felt about me, truly- only the blonde and the redhead ever said anything, and maybe the blue-haired girl. The fishman and the others never said anything out right, but actions speak louder than words, right?

So I guess that's why I think they liked me, or at least cared for me.

Fishman made me sushi every weekend, because I told him I liked sushi. He always made sure there was a smiley face in soy sauce. His partner brought me a daisy- my favorite flower- every time they came home from a long trip. His partner said that one day, he could take me to a field where they grow wild, if I'd like. The leader let me stay, which says enough. But when I asked him if he could have everyone sit at a table for meals, he agreed and even threatened members that didn't comply.

One of the scarier members backed me up in a fight; his partner did too. They even threatened to kill them over me. Plantman taught me how to garden and we grew a garden together. Blue taught me some Japanese, did my hair, and taught me how to sew and french braid my hair. She taught me different lullabies that she learned when she was a baby that her mother sang to her and eventually started to call me her little sister.

I don't know why they even bothered talking to me, but they did. The years I spent with them made me and each member grow closer. Some of them even were out of character around me.

But that was all before they started dying off and before I was sent back.

I don't know why they learned English for me or helped me with my homework- or even how they undersoond my homework.

I don't know why the fought for me or why my favorite pair died for me. I don't know why any of them had to die. I don't know why they let me stay. I don't know why they would do any of this.

I didn't wear his ring because I felt obligated. I don't wear the blonde's ring because they made me.

I wore it because I felt safe. I wore it because through everything that was going on in the real world, I had them to make me feel better. I got to know them; like, _really_ got to know them.

His ring was the only thing I had anymore.

And without the ring, I feel like it was all a delusion; a sweet, sweet delusion.

Because with the ring, I could close my eyes and I would be hiding in their closet again, waiting for them to come find me and tell me it's okay like they always did.

But they won't be coming for me and telling me it's okay; that I'm safe with them, they pinky promise. Because they're dead and they can't be revived this time, and they can't come for me.

And so, I close my eyes with the ring on, and I'm safe and okay for a little bit. I'm happy and I'm okay, even if it's for a little bit. And, when I open my eyes and I still feel that lulling sense of comfort, I know I will cry and feel sick to my stomach. I know I will be so upset to the point where I throw up everything I've tried to eat that day.

My safe places are gone. My family is gone and they won't be coming back for me.

But as long as I have his ring, I know it'll be okay. I know I'll be safe, because they loved me. They did their magic thing on the ring like they did with my hiding places.

They did it because they didn't know if they would live or not, and if they didn't, they made sure that I was going to be okay, because they pinky promised. Even in death, they were making sure I was safe.

So I know I'll be okay, even if I can't go a day without running to any bathroom or into my own closet and sobbing because I know I can't go back and I know they won't come for me to tell me I'll be okay. No matter how many times I've screamed and wished

Deep down, I think I knew the answer to the questions of why they did what they did and what I felt for all of them.

They were my family. We took care of each other. They loved me until they died and made sure I was going to be okay when they left.

And I..

I loved them.

I loved each and every one of them, even if they were murderers and we got into fights that nearly killed us. I loved them.

I wear his ring because I loved them and I miss them unbelievably so.

I wear his ring because they promised that they would make sure I was okay and safe, and I want to make them proud. I want them to have kept their promise.

So even if it hurts to even breathe without them, I'll be okay for them. I will try my hardest to stay okay, out of trouble, and safe, for them.


	2. Memories I

**Memories I**

I don't remember a lot from when I was a toddler. If I think about it hard enough, I can remember some details. I can't remember anything really important; just things about people or places.

Like, I can remember my mother's long, black hair that brushed her waist. She kept it in a long pony tail with a red bow. I remember I loved that red bow and to play with it. My mother had a beautiful smile that always lit up her big green eyes. I remember her tucking me into bed every night and playing with my hair until I fell asleep.

I remember that her laugh was kind of obnoxious, but not the bad kind; the kind that made everyone else wanted to laugh along with her. That's all I remember of her.  
I don't remember a lot about my father, though. I remember he had shaggy brown hair and wore glasses. I remember him and my mother smiled a lot. They were really in love.

I remembered that I really liked the colour pink and my mother loved to sew me frilly, fluffy dresses in all shades of the colour. I can't remember exactly what birthday, but I remember opening up a small white box adorned with a metallic Christmas bow, revealing two long pieces of ribbon. They were the same color as the ones my mother had that I so adored. I remember wanting to wear them every day.

I remember trying to go to school but I was a trouble maker and had trouble making friends. I remember that I was really bored and I already knew everything they taught me. I remember that all I did was color if I wasn't getting into trouble. I can't remember a normal day in school; just getting sent to the office a lot and seeing my mother shake her head at me. I remember getting scolded and all I wanted was to play with her red bow that swished from side to side when she was yelling at me.

That's all that I remember of my toddlerhood. There are a lot of gaps and I remember nothing until I was a little older; not by much, but I knew a lot more and I could speak in better sentences. I had grown about an inch or two. I remember wearing my hair in pony tails just about every day, though not with the ribbon my mother gave me.

The next memory I have after that is driving with a very tall man with black hair, glasses, and a suit. I remember sitting in a pink and brown car seat and being bored out of my mind, for days. I remember stopping a couple times a day at gas stations to eat, fill up, potty, and stretch our legs. He didn't talk to me at all, unless it was to tell me to do something, to ask if I needed anything, or what I wanted if we were ordering something. He wouldn't answer my questions.

I would ask him where we were going and if we were there yet. He would tell me that I'll see and we'd be there soon. I asked him what his name was and he would tell me to call him "Uncle" because I was my father's brother. I asked him if that was true because I've never seen him before and he got a weird face on and replied that of course it was; he doesn't have a reason to lie to me.

I asked him why he wouldn't tell me where we are going and he said that he can't until we get there. I asked him where my parents were and he went quiet and said they were gone. I tried to get him to tell me what he meant but he wouldn't speak until hours later at our next stop and that was to ask me what I wanted to eat.

I remember it feeling like days we were in the car and would stop every so often to get gas and for me to potty. I remember watching the sun roll down and that when I finally passed out and woke up, it was morning. This happened a couple times.

I remember that a couple days after we started (or when I assumed we started), we changed vehicles from a small maroon car to a bigger, almost sky blue 8-seater van with a drop-down dvd player. I remember going to a Walmart (or Target, I can't remember which) and picking out some of my favorite movies. Uncle approved them and got me a pair of pink Barbie earphones, which I eventually, unfortunately lost somewhere in the car. He also got me a neon orange plushed cat backpack that was a little too big for my small back, but I absolutely loved it. I put my snacks and juice boxes in it.

I remember this one time we were walking in a store between clothes to get another movie because I was bored of the ones we had originally gotten and it snagged on something and the left strap broke. I remember crying about it and being heart broken. I remember kissing Uncle on the cheek after I found out he fixed it.

I remember that was our schedule for a couple days, but it seemed like forever. Eventually, we pulled into an airport. I remember wanting to asking him where we were going to and what this place was, having never seen an airport before, but didn't because I knew he wasn't going to answer my question.

I remember pulling up to a long term parking and getting my stuff out of the back of the car. I don't remember the plane ride or what we did after. I don't remember saying goodbye or who he handed me off to. I don't remember how much time had passed, only that I was started to look older, but I was still very young. I don't know how I got to the house I'm at now or who brought me here. I don't know what happened to my Uncle or my parents. I don't know what happened to my Barbie earphones.

There are so many things missing in my childhood, and it irked me. I wanted to know- I wanted to remember. But something was keeping me from remembering. I wish I could remember…

But then again, what would that fix? What if I'm okay now because I don't remember? I'm scared to remember. I'm scared to know if something bad happened or not. I'm scared to know what happened to Uncle and my parents. I'm scared to find out that where I live now is where I'm not supposed to be, because it feels like I was born to be with these people.

I'm scared to find out what I don't remember.


End file.
